Inferno
by shadowcrawler05
Summary: It was so destructive, so chaotic, so unwilling to be contained to a single space. ...just like her.
1. The Gate

Summary: It was so destructive, so chaotic, so unwilling to be contained to a single space. ...just like her.

Spoilers: Quite possibly up through the first few episodes of season 2.

Disclaimer: I don't own JoA at all. I also do not own Zippo. I do own several Zippo lighters though, just not the company.

A/N: Big thanks going out to everyone who reviewed _In From the Rain_. Had no clue it would get that much feedback. You people rule. I would also like to thank my Route 66 Zippo that I bought in Los Angeles for being the inspiration for this story. No, I'm not kidding.

Also, this is my first multi-chapter fic, and I'm trying a slightly different style than my other stuff. And I promise I will _try _not to become one of those people that start a fic and never finish it. Of course, the more reviews and suggestions, the lower the possibility of that happening. Just saying…

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I - _The Gate_

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She sat down on the front porch and pulled an old Zippo out of her pocket. With one smooth motion, she flipped it open and struck the lighter across the bottom of her boot, igniting the wick into a dancing flame. She couldn't remember exactly how long it had been since she'd found the old thing laying on the soggy ground down by the river, but she had kept it for all those years. She always said it was like finding value in someone else's trash. Of course, Rove always said it was like a tendency towards pyromania. She could never do anything but smirk when he said that, because after all, it was true. There was always something about fire she found intriguing. It was so destructive, so chaotic, so unwilling to be contained to a single space. And yet, there she was, able to hold the most destructive force known to man in the palm of her hand. Somehow, when hypnotized by the warm glowing tendril, she could always find some kind of worth, some kind of value in her own life that she would be completely blind to under any other circumstance. Maybe it was the fact that she was controlling such great power, or maybe it was simply that she saw herself reflecting through the flame.

She continued to stare into the flame as it danced softly in the morning breeze that had set in, her eyes beginning to cloud over from the strain of staring at the warm orange glow against the soft green backdrop of her front lawn, as if affected by some sort of powerful drug. She tried not to think about anything, just let her mind get carried away by the rhythmic chaos she held before her. But she knew what was going on in her own psyche was far more chaotic than even the Great Chicago Fire could've ever been, and she knew it would be there waiting for her when the flame finally went out.

Still, she continued to hope it would all vanish with the flame when she decided it was time to flip the lighter closed, but she knew it wouldn't. It would linger like the haunting smell of smoke after a campfire, or the sulfur in the sky after a fireworks display. Hell, who was she kidding? Her mind _was _the fireworks display. Nothing but constant explosions in all directions, some more powerful than others, but destructive and deafening all the same. It didn't matter how many times she had tried to run, the crackling blaze was always there to welcome her home. Now she didn't even try. Most of the time she just simply let the inferno overcome her, its fire fleshing out of her in the form of anger, rage, contempt for anything that added fuel to the already towering conflagration.

She could hardly see her reflection in the tarnished chrome, but she could feel the glow of the flame reflecting in her clouded eyes, it's heat barely noticeable on a warm September morning. She sat there, silently staring into the dancing tendril, waiting for some outside source to snap her out of her daze, and at the same time wishing she could remain in her present state all day. It would be so much simpler to just spend a lifetime simply entranced by the chaos of the flame. But she, like the element before her, had chosen to go out and create it. She always figured herself to be that lingering sense of instability in the otherwise tedious lives of those around her. That one, lone spark, while nearly invisible to most, could still manage to ignite the most destructive of blaze. In her own mind, that was exactly what she was; a catalyst in the most chaotic sense of the term. She could never stand to be contained; she needed to burn. And yet, she found herself surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than to put her out. They were like the sand dumped onto forest fires with the hopes of smothering them into recession. But she wouldn't let that happen because, unlike fire, she had a consciousness, a will, a determination more commanding than any force of nature. She wasn't one to take a promise lightly, and she had a promise to keep burning. It was a promise made only to herself in the back of her mind, one who's words were never uttered, and yet one everyone around her knew she'd made. Promise. The word echoed through her mind as her eyes remained immersed in the orange glow she held in her hand.

-

__

She walked out the font door and sat down on the top step. She had to get out of there. She hated parties, always had, and she had no idea why her parents felt the need to hold a birthday party for Mrs. Rove. Sure, they had known each other for a decade, but only because their children had become such good friends. She tried to tell her parents not to worry about it, or make a big deal of it. After all, she knew Mrs. Rove hated birthdays. She hated the commercialism of it all. She never even wanted Adam_ to buy her anything, and he was her son. Still, her parents had insisted, finally deciding it was time they got to know the Roves better than just merely as acquaintances through their kids. Though, she figured it was because they were on the search for a family more dysfunctional than theirs, but they certainly wouldn't find it with the Roves. The Roves were a _family_, a group of people who loved each other and cared for one another, not just three strangers who happened to share a house and DNA. Her family didn't even share the same last name anymore. The only thing they had in common was their tenacity for keeping secrets from one another and pretending their problems didn't exist._

As she sat there, not wanting to get lost in the bitter thoughts of the strangers who called themselves her family, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the old Zippo lighter she always carried with her. She flipped it open and snapped her fingers against the igniter, causing a small spark to ignite the wick into a glowing orange tendril. She sat there staring into the flame for several minutes, occasionally switching hands when the heat of the metal got to be too much. She always did that when she needed to get away, just sat there entranced by the dancing red-orange glow. She didn't even hear the door open and close again behind her, nor did she notice someone had taken a seat beside her until they spoke, snapping her out of the daze she found herself in.

"You know, I remember the day you found that thing."

"Mrs. Rove," she turned to face her friend's mother, flipping the lighter closed, "what are you doing out here?"

"I needed some air." She smiled as Grace looked over at her with a knowing smirk. "And I hate parties."

"Yeah, well, don't blame me. I tried to tell them it was stupid, but they never listen to me, so…"

"Don't worry about it," Mrs. Rove interrupted. "I supposed it could be worse."

"Yeah," Grace nodded towards the door, "we could still be in there."

Elizabeth smiled at her son's best friend. Adam had never had a lot of friends, but she was always grateful Grace was one of them. She had always been such a unique girl, and Elizabeth figured that was one of the things that drew Adam to her. She was never afraid to be herself, even though her parents condemned it most of the time. She had her own mind and a fierce free will that she was never afraid to use. Elizabeth always told her that was what made her special, even if her parents didn't see it at the time. They would one day, and then they would be forced to take back every negative thing they had ever said about her. Grace would always counter that that would mean they'd have to take back everything _they've ever said to her. Elizabeth would just smile, and tell her one day she would understand. "You know," she said after a few moments, "Adam really looks up to you."_

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Her voice rang with a genuine surprise. She'd never imagined anyone ever looking up to her.

"Yes. He admires you, trusts you." She let out a small laugh. "Sometimes I think he respects you _more than Carl and I."_

Grace sat there silent for a moment, contemplating the idea that she might actually be a role model to someone. "Are you sure you never dropped him on his head or something?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure," Elizabeth let another small laugh. Grace was always cracking jokes like that. She figured it was just her way of dealing with situations that had become too intense for her. Not that it was a bad method. The two of them sat there for awhile, in complete silence except for the birds chirping in the background, before Elizabeth decided it was time to accomplish what she'd came outside to do in the first place. "Grace, I want you to promise me something."

Grace looked over at Mrs. Rove, eyebrow once again raised. Her voice wasn't slightly playful like it had been just a few moments before. There was a deep seriousness in her tone. For some reason, Grace was worried by it, but she complied. "What?"

Elizabeth looked her in the eyes. "I want you to promise me that if something ever happens to me, you'll watch over Adam."

"Mrs. Rove…"

"Promise me, Grace," she continued, her voice stern, like a parent lecturing their child not to do drugs. "Promise me that you won't let him get hurt. That you'll watch out for him, guard him." She smiled softly, her voice still firm. "Be the grace of G-d looking out for my dear boy."

"Sure," Grace nodded quietly after a moment. Normally she hated name puns, but there was something about Mrs. Rove's voice that made her take every word with all the seriousness she could handle.

"I need to hear you say you promise."

"I promise. But, nothing's gonna happen to you, Mrs. Rove. You…"

"Sometimes," she interrupted, "life doesn't always work out like you plan. It throws things at you that you never expect. You take the joy where you can find it, but sometimes…sometimes even that isn't enough." With that she stood, and walked back into the house, leaving Grace once again alone on the front porch, those last words repeating themselves over and over again in her mind.

-

Her gaze had become so transfixed on the flame staring back at her that she didn't notice the familiar shadow that was making its way up the front lawn until its owner was towering over her. "Wow, Grace, you still have that thing?" a familiar voice rang, pulling her stare away from elegance and back to reality.

"Well you know me, Rove," she said, flipping the lighter closed, killing the fire that had so amiably kept her from her thoughts all morning. "Regular pack rat."

Adam let a small smile cross his lips as he recognized the slight sarcasm he'd come to expect from just about every word that exited his friend's mouth. The thought of Grace referring to herself as a pack rat amused him, considering that that lighter was the only thing from her childhood he could think of she'd ever actually kept. That, and the leather jacket she shielded herself with, even in ninety degree weather. "Come on," he said after a moment, "we're gonna be late."

Grace looked up from her seat on the front porch step, speaking with nothing more than the look on her face that asked Adam if he had forgotten who he was talking to. He knew she didn't care about being late. In fact, it was something she deliberately tried to always be. To her, time was just another method people used to try and control her, another way they tried to suffocate the blaze. But he'd gotten good at silent conversation over the years, and returned her stare with a similar look saying that he didn't forget, but urged her to come along anyway. After just a few minutes, she finally caved. She stood and joined him as he began to make his way down the street. She was almost always the first to give in during their silent arguments. Had it been verbal, she could make it last for hours and walk away the victor, but Adam had always been better at saying a thousand words without even speaking. It was a quality she actually sort of envied. At least people could tell when something was wrong, at least they would care.

"So, where's the growth?" she snipped, not willing to return to the inferno of her thoughts just yet. "I figured after she got out of crazy camp, you two would be spending every waking moment together."

"Yeah," Adam sighed, "I think she's kind of been avoiding me a little."

"Getting a taste of your own medicine, Rove?" Grace smirked.

"That's not funny, Grace," Adam countered, though he was unable to hide his own small smirk. She was right, after all. He had been avoiding Joan just a little right before she was in the hospital. And in all honesty, he avoided her for a little bit even after she got out. After what she had told him, he needed time to process it, and he couldn't do that by seeing the hurt in her eyes every time she looked at him.

"Hey, hey," Grace continued, "I'm not the one who decided to avoid my girlfriend when she needed me most."

"You have a girlfriend?" Adam asked with a playful glint in his eye. He didn't have to look over to see Grace's eyes narrow and her patented 'death glare' being shot right at him.

"_Not _funny, Rove." The pair continued on in silence. That was how they'd always communicated best. Neither one had to say a word, and yet the other would always know what they were thinking. It was one of the side effects of knowing someone for over a dozen years. That didn't mean there weren't any secrets, it just meant that they were very few and far between.

Grace stopped walking once they reached the intersection of one road that would lead them to the school and another that would take them downtown. "You know what," she said, turning in the direction opposite the way she should have been going, "I need some coffee…or…something," she trailed off as she began to walk away. "I'll see you there."

"Who is it?" Adam called out. He may seem spacey to most, but he knew when his best friend was hiding something. Or someone, in this case.

"What are you talking about?" Grace turned around to face Adam once more.

"You're being all stealthy," he said as he walked up and stood by his friend. "And you're going for coffee. You don't go for coffee. Something about Starbucks being some kind of evil corporation trying to take over the world with Mocha Lattes."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "You know, that eidetic memory thing gets _really _old."

"So who is it?" he smirked.

"There is no it."

"Come on, Grace. We always used to tell each other stuff like this."

"There's nothing to tell!" She could tell her voice rang with about a thousand different kinds of denial, but that didn't matter. She was not about to tell Rove that she was going to meet his girlfriend's little brother to make out behind the brick wall of some sidewalk café.

"Okay," he said calmly. He knew Grace was a private person. If she wasn't ready to talk to him, he wasn't going to make her. He stood and watched as she took off down the street without another word. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to them. They used to be able to talk to each other about anything, guilt free. Now they couldn't even tell each other how their days had been without a hefty amount of soul searching. He blamed himself for a lot of it. He had shut himself off from the world when his mother died, including Grace, despite the countless number of times she had tried talking to him, and even the several nights she'd spent sleeping on the ground outside his shed, waiting for the exact moment he would emerge just so she would be there for him. He remembered overhearing his father ask her why she was doing that once. He never did hear an answer though. He figured she had just shrugged it off. She did have a tendency to do that. But sometimes it felt as though he was still waiting for the answer, but was just too afraid to ask the question himself. He tugged at the strap of his messenger bag as he once again began walking towards the school, the whole time wondering what ever happened to the relationship he once had with the only person who ever knew about his fear of water fowl.

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	2. Limbo

A/N: Ha! You all thought I forgot about this didn't you? Well I didn't, I've just been really, _really _busy for the last several months, and then there's the fact that I had no idea where this story was going to be going until about a month ago. Then I actually took the time to outline it, and just wrote this over the last two days. So hopefully (do note the _hopefully_) updates will be a bit more frequent than…every four months. I shall also take this moment to give Diminished9th/VanillaBean the _biggest shout out ever_ for her constant badgering, pestering, prodding, and beta-ing. That's really the only way this ever got done.

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II - _Limbo_

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As the sun continued to rise, Grace soon remembered why she hated early mornings, and why she hated the location of the make out spot she'd chosen. Sure, it was safe and secluded and _no one _would be able to spot them there, but what she didn't know at the time was how, in order to get there in the mornings, she would have to walk directly into the path of the rising sun. She had to admit, the warm breeze was pretty refreshing, but she wasn't sure if the blindness that would result from staring at the sun would really make it worth it.

She pulled her old lighter out of her pocket and began to flick the lid open and closed against the side of her leg as she walked on. The sound of the metal clinking against itself was a welcomed distraction to the usual sounds of early morning Arcadia. The busses were making their runs, picking people up and dropping them off at their various locations, all while spewing an endless cloud of pollution into the air. Individual motorists were honking their horns and yelling obscenities at the backup of traffic. Police sirens were already being heard down the street. For a mid-sized city in the middle of Maryland, Arcadia was fairly active in the early morning.

As Grace continued walking down the sun soaked street, she noticed a small flashing light in the distance. As she got closer, she squinted her eyes and used her hand to shield the sun from her line of sight in order to investigate what was going on. There was an ambulance in front of the coffee shop across the street from where she was meeting her…whatever he was. The lights were flashing in perfect synchronization with the other sounds of the morning. There was an almost hypnotic quality to the flashing spectacle, and Grace soon found herself staring blankly into them as the rest of her surroundings seemed to disappear from around her.

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The cold November wind blew softly as Grace walked with Adam to his house that evening. She was planning on staying there as long as she possibly could. She'd had an argument with her father that morning and quite frankly, she felt like avoiding him for as long as humanly possible. She didn't feel the need to talk to Adam about it, she didn't have to. The look of concern that appeared on his face when she'd showed up at his door in the actual AM hours on a Saturday morning was enough to tell her that he already knew. They had a sort of psychic connection brought on by a decade of friendship, a bond that neither of them thought could ever be broken.

She pulled her old lighter out of her pocket as they walked, flipping the lid open and closed with a flick of her wrist as they continued on down the sidewalk. Adam glanced over at her when he heard the sound of the metal clinging against itself, but did nothing but shake his head and let out a small laugh.

"What?" Grace asked when she realized his amusement.

"Nothing," he smiled. "I thought your mom took that thing away?"

"She did," Grace answered, striking the igniter against her jeans causing the wick to light up. "But she's been too…preoccupied lately to notice I took it back."

"Oh," Adam nodded with a silent understanding. He didn't pressure her to go on any farther, just continued walking by her side so she would know he was there if she did decided to continue.

The two of them ventured on down the sidewalk in silence, neither of them doing anything but losing themselves in their own thoughts. Adam had been worried about Grace lately. For the past couple of years her father had been on her case about studying for her Bat Mitzvah, whatever that was. He wasn't really sure, and he never asked, he just knew that Grace didn't want anything to do with it. Now that she was twelve, her father was really getting on her about it. Of course, she countered that by objecting more strongly than ever, driving a wedge between them that her father brushed off as normal teenage behavior, but Adam knew she saw it as much more than that. He knew that was why she had been spending so much time at his house recently. That, and problems with her mother that she never wanted to talk about, but Adam knew anyway. He never said anything, but he could see exactly what Grace saw; her family was falling apart. Her life was crashing down all around her and no one wanted to notice. He knew there wasn't anything he could do to help, except be there for her when she'd let him. It was moments like that which made him grateful for his own family.

As they neared Adam's house, Grace noticed a flashing red glow in the distance. "Dude, what is that?" she asked, pointing out her observation.

He squinted his eyes to get a better look, even though he knew it wouldn't really help. "I don't know. It looks like an ambulance."

"It looks like…" she paused for a moment, as realization set in and she recalled the events that took place just a couple of days before. Her conversation with Mrs. Rove, the things she had said, and the promise she had her make. "It's coming from your house."

They both exchanged quick glances of worry before simultaneously taking off towards the Rove residence. They ran as fast as they could, Adam gaining a steady lead on Grace. She noticed him come to an abrupt stop once he reached his front lawn. She pushed herself to gain speed and caught up with him just in time to see a familiar figure being carried out of the house on a backboard. Mr. Rove followed the paramedics out of the house, the worry and fear tremendously evident on his face, expressed in every one of his features. It was then Grace pieced together exactly what had happened. She wasn't sure how, but she knew. She knew that was what Mrs. Rove was talking about when she had her make that promise just a couple days earlier.

"Adam, we have to go." Mr. Rove's brusque voice trembled as he grabbed his son by the arm. He opened the passenger door of his car for Adam as the ambulance pulled away. Grace couldn't move. She could only watch as Mr. Rove helped Adam in the car, both looking so scared, so completely terrified it may have broken her heart, if her own fears hadn't already. "Grace," she heard Mr. Rove call out. She looked to see that he already had the back door open for her to join them. She thought about telling him not to worry, that she would just walk home and tell her parents what happened and maybe they would take her to the hospital later, but something about the look on his face made her go with them. She climbed into the old station wagon as they took off after the ambulance.

They were about halfway to the hospital before Grace realized that she'd dropped her lighter somewhere between the place where they'd noticed the flashing lights and the Rove's house. She didn't care. She was too riddled with worry and guilt and fear to think about a rusted piece of chrome with a cotton core. Though at that moment, she would have given anything to have been holding it in her hands, the wick bright with the red-orange glow of the flame, herself lost in the elegant chaos of it all. Instead, her mind was free to focus on everything that lay before her. She knew what news they would be receiving at the hospital. She knew that night Adam's life would change forever, and she knew that meant hers would too. She wouldn't be able to go to his house to escape her own anymore, she would only be able to go be reminded of what they'd both lost. But she couldn't run from it like everything else in her life. She would still have to go because she made a promise, and Grace Polk didn't break promises.

-

Grace had been so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't notice when the familiar figure approached her from across the street. Her eyes remained transfixed on the flashing lights in front of her, just as her thoughts remained transfixed on the memory forcing itself to the surface after years of being buried deep within the stronghold of her mind. Her focus was so intent that she would have never noticed the figure now standing beside her had he not chosen that moment to speak up, causing her to jump slightly, startling her out of her current state of hypnosis.

"Hey, Grace."

"Huh?" she turned to see the face of the boy she was sure would have walked away laughing when she handed him a secrecy contract. But no, he quickly signed it and they'd been meeting at the abandoned café ever since. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long," he answered.

"What happened?" she nodded in the direction of the ambulance.

"I'm not sure. I think someone just collapsed. I was walking down the street and saw a crowd of people standing there trying to help this woman so I went to see if there was anything I could do." She let out a small laugh and shook her head slightly. "What?"

"You are such a cop's kid," she replied, with the perfect mixture of playfulness and seriousness to confuse him. She looked over at him in time to see him nodding in the direction of their hiding place behind the brick wall and start to head over. Her gaze shifted from him to the crowd over beside the ambulance and back again. "No way, dude," she said, without moving from her current location.

"What's wrong?"

"There are _way _too many people around here."

"But there's a _brick wall_ between us and them. Besides, we don't even _know _any of these people. And I'm pretty sure the paramedics aren't going to go around telling everyone at Arcadia High they saw us hanging out here."

He sounded frustrated. She knew she wasn't the easiest person to get along with. In fact, she was surprised he'd put up with her as long as he had. She almost wished she could tell him what was going on, why she had chosen to run. But she couldn't. She knew he wouldn't understand, at least not yet. It was then she noticed the slight look of hurt that had found its way to his eyes. She sighed before offering up her compromise. "Ten minutes after school."

He stood there for a few moments in consideration. "Okay, fine," he said with a hint of a smile, "if five of those minutes can be a conversation."

She shook her head in slight amusement. He had to be the only fifteen year old guy on the planet who would trade five minutes of make-out time for five minutes of talking. "Sure, you can tell me about superstring theory," she replied with a hint of sarcasm. She watched as he smiled and took off. Once he was out of sight, her gaze once again returned to the ambulance. The lights still flashed as the paramedics were now loading their patient into the back. Grace watched as the crowd began to disperse, giving the ambulance room to take off whenever it was ready. As soon as their cargo was secure, the paramedics jumped into the ambulance and took off, blaring its sirens as it sped straight into the blinding sun.

-

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It was late; the only thing keeping Grace's mind off of the news she knew they'd all be receiving soon was the quiet humming of the florescent lights accompanied by the various beeps and drones of the emergency room. None of them had any idea how long Adam's mother had been unconscious, just that Mr. Rove had found her when he returned home that evening. No matter how much she tried to silently talk herself out of it, Grace felt a rush of guilt overcoming her. It was her fault. She knew something was going on with Mrs. Rove when she was asked to make that promise, but she didn't tell anyone. Though, it wasn't like she had someone she could have talked to. Her parents would've told her she was making something out of nothing. Mr. Rove would have laughed, ruffled her hair, and told her she was crazy. If she had asked Mrs. Rove, she knew she would have denied anything was going on at all. And she couldn't tell Adam; she wouldn't. She knew the moment she made that promise that it was one thing she'd never let him in on. She was his guardian now, or she would be soon. It was her job to protect him. Telling him that she knew something was wrong with his mother, letting him know that everything that happened that night was all her fault for not telling someone, that would crush him.

She'd begun staring at the ceiling, counting each individual spec in the texture of the tiles just to keep her mind occupied. Her hands would either involuntarily rub against each other or start drumming out random beats on the arm of the chair, anything to keep themselves occupied with the absence of her lighter. She needed it then more than she ever had. She needed the feel of the cold chrome slowly heating, becoming warm against her palm as the fire kept burning. She needed the warmth of the flame radiating onto her to face, even if it burnt her eyes sometimes. She needed that warmth there, in the middle of the hospital. The waiting room was cold and sterile. Everything surrounding her was a shade of blue or gray, almost as if a filter had been placed over the entire room. If the entire place would've burst into flames right then, she wouldn't have cared.

She pulled her attention away from the ceiling long enough to glance over at Adam. He was just as she'd expected he'd be. Crying, shaking, worried. She wanted to do something; she had to. She just had no idea what it was supposed to be. Telling him everything would be okay wouldn't work. They both knew better than that. It was then she noticed a doctor coming out from behind a pair of double doors that led to the trauma rooms. She knew he was meant for them. The waiting room was empty except for them, and some kid who'd been bitten by a dog that was still sitting there waiting to see someone. She watched as Mr. Rove rose slowly from his seat and quietly walked in the direction of the doctor. Adam also watched through tear-filled eyes as Grace prepared herself for what was about to come.

As Mr. Rove talked to the doctor, Grace noticed his posture worsen, his features slowly letting themselves be overrun by grief and anguish. When he fully turned around to head back toward them, she saw that a couple stray tears had found their way down his face. She'd never seen Mr. Rove cry, always thought of him as too tough for that sort of thing. But she knew how much he loved his wife; how much everyone loved her. How much she _had loved Grace. Mrs. Rove had been like a mother to her, always there when she needed help with math homework or a ride home from someplace when her mother 'forgot,' or just when she needed someone to believe in her. She didn't know what she was supposed to do now, who was supposed to tell her everything would work out, who would be there on that rare occasion when her troubles got to be too much to bare._

Her own worries soon ceased as she looked over to Adam. He was in worse shape than before. His quiet tears from before had turned into fairly loud sobs as the true realization that he would never see his mother again set in. Grace knew she couldn't comfort him, she wasn't going to try to fake it. She just needed to be there, to let him know that she was. She couldn't hug him, it would be too much. She'd made it without crying so far, and she wasn't about to let herself break down on him. She had to be strong, to remain dry eyed as if this loss didn't affect her as it did. He'd just lost his mother, she still had hers, in a matter of speaking. He was allowed to cry, to hurt, but it was her job to make sure she didn't do the same. It would be selfish. She did the only thing she could bring herself to do without shedding any tears and slowly reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

Adam looked over at her, his eyes like two miniature fountains as the tears continued to fall. Grace swallowed and blinked back her own tears as best she could while tightening her grip on his shoulder, just to let him know she was still there. As Mr. Rove was asked to go complete some forms, the two remained there in complete silence, except for Adam's sobs that had become slightly muffled as buried his head in his hands.

-

Grace slowly blinked away the slight burning sensation left in her eyes by the brightness of the sun before turning around and heading toward the school. As she walked, she kept her eyes mostly on the ground, watching her shadow move in front of her. As she made her way closer to the school, the sounds of downtown Arcadia began to slowly fade and soon she was walking through the residential streets in complete silence except for the occasional passing car or bus making its morning rounds. She began flipping her lighter in her hand once again. She had never been quite sure what it was about the simple sound of the metal clinging against itself that always kept her so intrigued. Perhaps it was the perfect rhythm that it always seemed to keep, or maybe it was more of its being a constant reminder that she held in her hand a catalyst for the creation of one of the most destructive forces known to man. Whatever it was, it served to speed the passage of time as she made her way to the daily prison known as Arcadia High.

She reached the school just in time to hear the fifteen minute warning bell ring from inside the building. As she crossed the street, she made sure to avoid stepping in the puddles by the sidewalks that were still there from the rain of the a couple of days earlier. The smell of wet cement still lingered in the air combined with the smell of the dried and dying leaves that were already starting to fall from the trees. It was as if fall decided to arrive early, but summer wasn't quite ready to leave.

Upon making her way to the lawn in front of the school, Grace was overcome by the smell of the warm mud that was scattered about in pools all across the turf. Most of the other students were avoiding the lawn at all costs, walking out of their way to use the main walk leading up to the stairs at the entrance of the building. She continued on her present course, not because she was in any hurry really, but more so because she was just too apathetic to care if a little mud found its way onto her already dirty boots. As she crossed the lawn, she realized that some of the pools of muck were a little deeper than she'd initially thought they'd be, causing her to actually have to put forth a little effort to make it across the lawn. The warm breeze from earlier in the morning had returned, leaving her with an all too familiar feeling as she trekked forth toward the school's entrance.

-

_The cold wind was callous blowing against her face as Grace slowly made her way down the sidewalk toward the Rove residence. The past several days had been awful and the night air offered little solace. As much as she tried to will it in another direction, her mind continued to flow back to the events of the previous few days. Mrs. Rove was gone. She hadn't realized until it was too late how much her friend's mother had come to mean to her. At first, she was merely the woman who would sit and watch them play in the park. As they grew older and closer, she became the woman who would drive them for ice cream and walk with them down to the sewers where they'd race paper boats and let them build forts in her living room, not really caring how much of a mess they made. Mrs. Rove had always let Grace come over to their house to hang out, and Grace had always been fine with that. Even when she was younger, she knew there was something wrong with her mother and she liked to keep people's interactions with her to a minimal._

Mrs. Rove always understood that. Grace wasn't sure how, but she figured Mrs. Rove somehow knew about her own mother. She was _and adult, and adults always seemed to get those kind of things about each other. She'd been the one adult that Grace had actually trusted, the only one that ever told her things would work out, that she had the potential to be something great. She'd always said stuff like that about her son and his friend. But those moments were gone, and Grace knew she had to push them to the back of her mind if she was ever going to be able to help Adam through this. She couldn't let him see that it tore her apart just as much as it did him._

When she finally reached the house, she made her way up to the front door through the lawn. It was soggy, still wet from the rain the day before, the day of the funeral. It had been sunny all morning and throughout the service as well. Grace remembered thinking about how strange it was that the day could be so bright, so cheery, and yet there they were burying one of the few people on this planet she had actually cared about. It was like the universe's cruel attempt at irony. It ended soon though; the clouds set in and began to storm shortly after the funeral was over. Mr. Rove had invited Grace to come back to their house that evening. He told her family would be over and that Adam would probably need someone to keep him company. Grace declined; it had taken too much for her to keep herself composed during the funeral, there was no way she'd be able to pull it off at their house. Mr. Rove seemed to understand though, and told her to stop by whenever she felt comfortable. Of course, she still didn't feel comfortable, but she knew she had to see Rove, had to be there for him. She had promised, and she wasn't about to back down, no matter how hard it was.

She reached the front porch and quietly knocked on the door. Before, she had been told to just come in whenever she got there. It was like an open invitation extended to her by every member of that household. They had told her she was like family, there was no need for the formality of knocking. But a lot had changed in the last few days, and for some reason she knew it wouldn't feel right to just open the door and walk in. Mr. Rove answered the door before long. He looked pleased to see her. She pasted on the closest thing she could to a smile. "Uh, hey."

"Hey, Grace," he replied, his gruff voice even rougher than usual, as if his throat has been wiped dry. "How are you holding up?"

He sounded genuinely sincere, but Grace didn't want to tell him that she felt like hell when his _wife had died, so she answered him only with a small nod. She knew he understood. "Uh, where's Adam?" she asked, after a few moments of deafening quiet._

Carl smiled as best he could. "He's out in the shed."

"Okay." She felt as though there was something else she should say, but she wasn't sure what it would be. Certainly no words could make that situation better; they both knew that. She nodded again as she left the porch and made her way to the shed at the back of the house.

As she walked around the house, she kept her eyes to the ground, unconsciously scouting around for the lighter she'd lost a few days before. She wouldn't have cared so much, but she'd been uneasy beyond the point of her own belief and needed to feel the calming effect the flame always seemed to have on her. She needed to just lose herself in the warm glow of the mini inferno. She stopped looking once she reached the shed. The light was on, glowing through the window, through the beads of water that still clung to it, causing the light to refract as though shining through a prism. She thought for a moment that he might be working; he'd done that a lot over the past couple years, lock himself in the shed with pieces of sheet metal and a blow torch. He could come up with the strangest looking things, none of which she ever understood. She figured that was why she liked them so much.

She stood at the door for a few minutes, silently debating whether or not to knock. When she didn't hear any tools clanking or sparks flying from the blow torch, she decided to knock. Ordinarily, as with his house, she'd have had no fear in just opening the door and walking in. That was how it worked with them. But it didn't feel right that night, and it wouldn't feel right again. She knocked on the door, quietly at first, but when there was no answer she knocked harder. Again, there was no answer. "Rove," she knocked again, "your dad told me you're in here." It was the first time she'd actually spoken to him since the day his mother died. Any other time she had seen him after that, they simple sat or stood in silence.

When there was still no answer, she gave up. "Okay, well," she said through the closed door, "I'm out here." With that she took a seat on the cold ground, not really caring how muddy it was, and leaned back against the side of the shed. She knew if he wanted to talk he would open the door, but she also somehow knew that he wouldn't.

-

Grace finally made it across the quagmire in front of the school and made her way up the front steps, leaving a trail of muddy footprints all along the stairs. When she reached the door she noticed Adam standing off to the side looking in her direction. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. He shrugged. "Party girl run off with your girlfriend again?" She kicked her foot across the cement terrace in an attempt to wipe the mud from the bottom of her boots.

Adam gave a small, amused smile as he walked over. "Yeah, probably." As the two of them headed into the building, Grace tucked her lighter up into her fist to hide it from the security guard as he swiped them both quickly with his wand. She had noticed how the school's security measures had been reduced almost drastically since late last year. The metal detectors had been completely removed and were replaced by two or three uniformed security guards swiping students with their wands as they entered the building. It certainly wasn't ideal, but it did feel a little less violating than having to remove her navel ring every time she walked into the building.

"You don't have any coffee."

"What?" Grace looked over, almost surprised to see Rove keeping pace with her. She would have figured he'd have taken off to find Girardi as soon as they walked through the door.

"Earlier you said you were gonna go get some coffee. You don't have any," he pointed out.

"I…" she hesitated, silently cursing Rove's eidetic memory. "I changed my mind."

"Cool," he answered calmly.

"It's like you said," she continued, as if he hadn't said a word, "like I'm gonna support some overpriced, big name corporation that profits from the efforts of overworked, underpaid employees for no greater purpose than pocketing America's money and turning caffeine into another Hollywood trend."

Adam couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Of course not."

"Are you gainsaying me, Rove?" Grace questioned as they stopped at her locker.

"Gainsay?" Adam's expression turned to complete confusion.

"Because if you are," Grace went on, once again as if Adam hadn't spoken, "you're on your own with Girardi and party girl."

"You wouldn't do that to me," Adam smiled.

"Wanna bet?" Grace turned to face Adam. She tried to glare, but she'd found out a long time ago that it was next to impossible to keep a straight face while glaring at Rove.

"Right." Adam's smile slowly faded as he remembered what he had wanted to talk to Grace about earlier that morning. "Listen, Grace," he started carefully, knowing she probably wouldn't let him get many words in after she saw the direction he was taking. "At Judith's party…"

"I already told you, I talked to Girardi a few days ago," Grace interrupted. "She said you made up, and by what I've seen, it looks like you have, too. And y'know, I'm getting _really _tired of playing messenger for you two." She crammed her bag into her locker, taking out the books she needed for her first class.

"That's not what I meant. I meant…well," he took a breath, "when you found Judith…when you saved her…"

"I _don't _want to talk about that, Rove," Grace interrupted, slamming her locker.

"Okay." Adam decided not to press on. He'd learned that when Grace didn't want to talk about something, she _didn't _talk about it. "I've gotta go get Jane," he said as he began to walk away. When he'd taken a few steps he turned around and called back. "Hey! We'll walk with you to physics. Wait here!"

Grace waved him off and leaned back against her locker, slamming her head against the cold metal. She closed her eyes and crammed her hands in her pockets, still flipping the lid of her lighter from within.

-

__

Grace once again sat alone on the cold ground outside of the Rove's shed. That had been her routine for the past several nights. She would go there sometime in the evening when she knew Adam was home, knock on the door, not be granted an answer, and sit down and make a bed on the ground by the door. She didn't know why she continued to do this, why she'd continue to spend the entire night on the ground outside his shed. Mr. Rove had seen her out there every night, and every night he would call her parents to let them know where she was. And every day her parents would question why she kept going over there when it was clear that Adam needed time. She never told her parents about the promise she'd made to his mother. She knew there was no way they could possibly understand.

The breeze had picked up and Grace pulled her jacket tighter around her to protect herself from the cold wind. She figured it had to be around thirty degrees outside. That wasn't too unusual for Maryland in the end of November, but that didn't make her hate it any less. She could hear her own teeth chattering as the wind blew her hair around her face. She'd tried pushing it back behind her ears, but that did no good as the wind continued to blow it back in front of her eyes. She could barely see Mr. Rove as he approached, mug in hand.

"Hey, Grace," he greeted. She nodded to return the greeting. "I, uh, brought you some coffee," he indicated the mug. "You drink that, right?"

"Yeah, sure." She straightened herself up and took the mug from Mr. Rove. "It's warm, right?"

Carl smiled lightly and nodded. He turned and started to take a step away before turning back around. "Why do you keep doing this?" he asked curiously. "You're going to get yourself sick, y'know."

"Yeah, I know."

"So…" he hesitated. "Why?"

Grace thought for a moment. She wasn't even sure why she kept doing this, just that she knew she made that promise to Adam's mother. She had said she'd be there for him, and she wanted to make sure she would be. "I just…" she answered finally. "I have to be."


	3. Transition

A/N: See? It wasn't four months this time. Shoutouts to D9/VanillaBean for the beta, and Elizabeth/whatever your name is here, and yct/whatever your name is here for various things. I think it's this chapter I owe shoutouts for. If not, there here anyway.

III - _Transition_

The crisp, white snow that had covered the ground for the previous two weeks had finally began to melt, leaving a cold, gray slush in its place. What had been a winter scene worthy of the cheesiest of holiday films had now transformed into the dark reality of the season's demise. And it had come just in time for the post-holiday return to school, the sky casting its ominous gray glare down over all of Arcadia.

It had been an uneventful break for Grace. She hadn't gone to Adam's to pass the time as she had in previous years. She knew her presence there that year would be awkward, and probably unwanted, as she would serve as a reminder to Adam and his father of what they'd recently lost. A small but present token remembrance of the previous years she and Adam would spend on the living room couch sipping on the hot cocoa his mother made in the kitchen. It was real cocoa, not the factory processed packets Grace's own parents stockpiled and made her fix for herself using hot water and a microwave. This was milk and chocolate bars melted together on the kitchen stove, filling the entire house with its aroma, adding to the warmth Grace always felt upon walking through the doors.

She knew there wouldn't be any cocoa that year. Just as there would be no lights, no festive music coming from the radio, no cheesy Christmas specials Grace always insistedthey watch just because her parents would freak when she told them. No, the Rove house that year would be just as stark as her own. The air of sadness surrounding that house was so strong she could feel it just being on the same street. It was a strange sensation coming from the place she always ran to to escape sadness.

So she kept herself clear that year, wasting away the two week break locked in her room trying not to think of how she hadn't spoken to Adam since that night at his shed, how he hadn't spoken to her since a few days before that. She tried as hard as she could not to think about how much she missed that sanctuary always provided to her, the place she could hide away from her own family with the one adult who ever truly understood. But even through the music coming from the stereo at full volume, she could hear her thoughts drifting over to the only person that ever managed to make her feel like she was worth something.

So with nowhere else to turn, she spent the days at home, hiding away in her room as long and as often as she could. Every day throughout the break, Grace made sure to sleep until at least noon if she could pull it off. Whenever she determined there was no one around, she would grudgingly pull herself out of bed and head down to the kitchen where she hoarded enough junk food to last her the entire day. After carrying it all back to her room, she sat at her computer all day blaring music and playing hours of Tetris and Battle Chess. Occasionally she would crack the door and glance into the hall when she heard her mother's drunken footsteps approaching, but she would close it quickly and return to the computer just in time to watch the knight decapitating the bishop.

It was the first time she could ever remember welcoming the first day back to school. She never liked it there; there were too many people always trying to tell her what was best for her, too many people trying to tell her how she was supposed to think and act, what was worth knowing, what wasn't. She found keeping to herself was the best remedy for that; hiding quietly in the back of the room so no one would ever be tempted to try and make her into someone else. Throughout the years it had been just her and Adam. While there were other friends that would come and go and never return, she and Adam stuck by each other through everything. It was because of this that the simple fact she hadn't talked to him in weeks bothered her. It was a situation that desperately needed to be remedied.

As Grace walked into the school's cafeteria at lunch that first day back, she noticed Adam sitting alone at a table over in the corner. She looked at him for a moment, taking in the image before her. The light coming in from the windows cast a shadow over the corner where Adam sat, allowing little light to reach him. Grace continued to examine her friend sitting alone in the dark as she walked over to join him. She had no idea what she would say; she didn't have an arsenal of words that could make the situation better, and even if she had, she knew they would be words she needed to hear just as much as him. She was still plagued by the thought that she was in just as much pain as he was, even though she knew she shouldn't be.

When she reached the table, Grace slowly pulled out a chair across from her friend and took a seat. Adam kept his eyes fixated on a small piece of paper lying on the table in front of him. When several moments had passed without Adam so much as acknowledging her presence, Grace decided to speak up and break him out of his trance. "Uh…hey," she said, rather quietly. Adam looked up at her for a second before returning his attention to the paper. They sat in silence for a little while longer as Grace thought about what to say. She had never been at a loss for words before with anyone, let alone with him. So much had changed in such a small amount of time for him, for both of them. The only thing she could hope was that her at least being there would help a little.

"So…" Grace finally spoke up again, breaking through the first truly uncomfortable silence to pass between them. "What's that?" she asked, gesturing to the piece of paper in front of Adam. As he picked it up and held it very carefully between his fingers, Grace was able to distinguish it as an envelope. Adam treated it so delicately, as if it would crumble into dust if it was touched in the wrong way.

"It's from my mom," he answered. Even though his voice was barely audible, Grace could hear it start to crack as fresh tears found their way to his eyes. They weren't like the loud sobs from the night at the hospital; these were the quiet tears of a young boy who had no idea what to do.

"Oh," Grace answered. "What…uh," she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, "what's it say?" Adam shrugged silently. "Have you even read it?" she asked, making sure to keep her voice free of the harsh tone that often found its way into her words. He shook his head. She responded with a quiet nod, knowing it wasn't the right time or place to prod him about the contents of his mother's envelope. Instead, she decided to let him know that whenever he was ready to read it, if he needed her, she'd be there. "Listen," she began, "if you ever wanna, y'know…talk…or anything…"

Before she could go on Adam stood quickly and walked out of the cafeteria. It took a moment for what had just happened to register with Grace. Adam had never walked off in the middle of a conversation, let alone leave in the middle of a conversation without saying he had to take off. Her eyes followed his retreating figure until he had vanished through the cafeteria doors.

"Hey, Grace. You ready?"

Grace opened one eye slowly to see Rove had resurfaced, his girlfriend in tow. "As I'll ever be." She took her hands out of her pockets and pushed herself off the locker. As the trio began their walk to class, Grace noticed that they were, in fact, just a trio. "What happened to party girl?" She didn't really care. She was more interested in striking up a conversation so she wouldn't have to watch Rove and his girlfriend procreate in the middle of the hallway.

"Oh, she decided to ditch," Joan answered. "She'll probably milk the hospital excuse as long as she can."

"Well, she did have alcohol poisoning," Grace replied, her tone earning her a worried glance from Adam's direction. "She shouldn't even be here to begin with."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Joan countered, quite nonchalant for someone who's friend had been taken to the hospital on the verge of death.

"Right. I don't know anything," she replied, tugging at her bag and picking up her pace as she sped past the lovebirds, avoiding the growing look of worry on Adam's face. "I keep forgetting that," she mumbled. She pushed herself forward, but still remained close enough to hear the conversation behind her.

"What's with her?" Joan asked, indifference lacing her tone.

Grace could feel Adam keeping his eyes locked on her. "I don't know," she heard him answer. He wasn't a very convincing liar. It was a good thing for her that Joan didn't appear to care one way or the other as she launched into some spiel about how her grades have improved since last year and she was well deserving of an iPod.

Grace tuned out the conversation as she continued her trek down the hallway. Joan's complete lack of interest in anything that wasn't directly related to herself did get annoying, but there were times, much like this, where Grace was grateful that she failed to notice any occurrences outside of the Joan Girardi bubble. As she walked on, she could tell Rove was still watching her, probably trying to think of some way to talk to her about what happened at the party. They had already talked about Joan's rather…odd behavior, about how neither of them thought any good could be salvaged from Judith's behavior, but every time Rove tried to discuss Grace finding Judith's near dead form on the living room floor, she quickly changed the subject to, well, anything but that. It wasn't his concern; he had far too many problems of his own to worry about hers, especially something so trivial as to how she might be feeling after finding someone she really didn't like that well anyway passed out with alcohol poisoning. She'd been through the same situation before, so much so that her reaction to it was about as textbook as one could get. It certainly didn't bother her. Or so she told herself.

As she entered the physics room, Grace was forced to bring her hand to her face in order to shield her eyes from the bright rays of sunlight coming in through the windows. "Couldn't someone just close the stupid blinds," she mumbled, to no one in particular. Just then, as if on cue, any clouds that had found their way in front of the sun departed, and the light grew even brighter, casting its warmth into the already heated room.

The gray of the passing winter had started to fade and found itself slowly being replaced by the warm glow of a spring sun. The light from the sun was so bright, Grace was forced to shield her eyes as she entered her science class. Its rays shined in all directions through the frosted glass windows, casting a warmth throughout the room. She walked to the back of the room and took her seat next to Adam in the last row. She hated science class, and the warmth invading the room from the window beside her did nothing to make things any better. The only good thing about that class, to her, was it was the only class she had with Rove that year. It was the only time she could actually watch him, and the only time he couldn't run away. She hadn't stopped by the shed since early December. She'd wanted to, but even she knew she couldn't survive so many hours outside in the middle of a Northeastern winter. And as much as she wanted to help, she knew she was of no use to him if she died of hypothermia sitting outside his shed.

The weeks had passed slowly since the last time she'd tried talking to him. She knew he needed time; she did too, but three months with barely a word between them was too much. She looked over at him as class began to start, wondering how many wasted opportunities had passed, how many times she could've pressured him to talk, tried to get him to deal with what had happened, but passed them up because it still felt too fresh. He looked about the same as he did that night in November. His eyes were puffy, and Grace could tell he'd been crying before school that day. She remembered how just the day before his mother died they'd been sitting in that class. She'd whisper some smart comment and he'd reply with one of his own to make the situation even funnier. They'd both try and stifle their laughter when the teacher would look back at them. She hadn't made any jokes since his mother died, not even to herself.

As their teacher began his daily lecture, Grace leaned over to Adam. "Hey, dude…" she whispered quietly. Adam turned his head in her direction, but didn't look up from the spot on the table he'd been staring at since she walked in the room. "Uhh…" she struggled to find the right words. She'd never been very good at providing comfort, or offering any sort of emotional support. She wasn't sure why; she just couldn't do it. That had always been Rove's department, but now he needed it to be hers, even if he wouldn't say anything. Still, she knew the best thing she'd be able to do was simply eliminate the silence between them. She looked up at the teacher for the first time that day and noticed a bright orange tie with images of beakers and test tubes. "Hey," she leaned over, pointing the monstrosity out to Adam. "Can you even hear him above that tie?" she joked, in an attempt to fall back into their old routine. Perhaps that would help, making things seem as though they were still the same as they had been.

He didn't reply. He looked up at her for a split second. His face held a glare she was pretty sure only she _had ever delivered, before turning around and returning his attention on the spot on the table in front of him. Grace searched her mind for something else to say, but found nothing. She couldn't ask him any questions because she couldn't make him answer or even make him say a word; she knew that. But that didn't stop her from focusing all of her attention on him, watching him, waiting with the slim remainder of hope that maybe he would say something. She'd have even settled for a simple "shut up, Grace."_

"Uh Grace? Hey, Earth to Polk. Yo, _Grace_!"

"Huh?" Grace turned quickly to see Joan and Adam standing behind her, Adam looking worried, Joan looking annoyed.

"What are you _doing_?" Joan asked.

Grace soon realized that she hadn't moved from the spot right inside the door since she'd entered the room. "Nothing," she replied, fishing through her head for a decent answer. "Just…basking in the warmth," she plastered on a sarcastic grin that had become a virtual trademark.

Joan rolled her eyes at her friend's answer. "Whatever, just go sit down." She shoved Grace lightly, pushing her forward.

Grace mumbled to herself as she readjusted her bag and followed Joan and Adam to their table in the back of the classroom. On the way to her seat, she was forced to pass by Rocket Boy's table, where he was, of course, looking right at her. "Don't even think about it." She picked up her pace in order to get passed his table as quickly as she could. She could almost hear his eyes roll as she took her seat behind him.

As soon as Grace sat down, Joan turned in her direction. "Hey Grace," she began, "you know, Judith really is grateful for you, you know, saving her life."

"Sure," Grace replied, unenthusiastically as she rested her head on her hand and proceeded to stare at the back of the head in front of her.

"I'm serious Grace," Joan continued, even though Grace technically stopped listening after Judith's name was mentioned. "I'm sure she's just been too preoccupied to actually thank you."

"Hm, parents restock the liquor cabinet?"

"Listen, Grace, I don't expect you to understand her situation, but you know…"

"Jane," Adam interrupted. "Uh, do you have the homework? I think I forgot mine." As Joan started fishing through her bag in search of the previous night's work, Adam looked around her and caught the remnants of a glare that had been forming on Grace's face. If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that he caught a hint of gratitude flash in her eyes. Grace looked as though she was going to say something when the door burst open and an abnormally enthusiastic teacher entered the room.

"Goooood morning, my little atomic particles," Lischak chirped as she walked through the door.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Why does she have to be so damn cheerful?" she muttered quietly, to no one in particular. Lischak started in on her daily lecture as soon as the door closed behind her. What it was about, Grace had no clue. She had already begun to drift off as the sounds of Lischak's science musings filled the room.

Time continued to pass slowly, most of the time with hours feeling like days, days like months. Grace found no sanctuary. Neither school nor home offered any comfort. Not even the confines of her own room gave her solace anymore. She missed things as they had been, when she could find comfort and even peace, if only for a few hours, with her best friend, his mother, and sometimes even his father when she was lucky enough to be there when he had the night off from his janitorial job and was awake. They were a family, and even without saying or doing anything special, they always managed to make her feel like a part of that, too. Sometimes she'd felt more like a Rove than a Polk. Or a Polonsky. Whatever she was. It was hard to believe it had been so long since she'd been in the Roves' home, felt the warmth that always resonated from it. Of course, that warmth was no longer there. It vanished months before only to be replaced by a cold sadness that even her own home had never felt. She supposed she should be grateful for that; grateful that her mother was still alive, grateful that they were still a family, if only in the loosest possible sense of the term. But it was hard to be grateful when she had no idea what kind of woman her mother would be when she walked through the door. Whether she would be greeted by the smell of liquor and vomit accompanying a woman staring indifferently into space, or whether this woman would be wobbling happily around the living room singing the entire soundtrack of Fiddler on the Roof.

It had been that way since before she could remember. It wasn't until about a year and a half earlier that Grace fully came to realize just how bad her mother's drinking problem really was. Until then, it was just one of those family secrets that no one ever talked about and everyone pretended didn't exist. But when she walked downstairs with her friend Becky that one morning to find her mother passed out on the kitchen floor, that's when she knew there was more to it. Her friend never spoke to her again.

She remembered running to the Roves' house the morning Becky had left. When she knocked on the door, Adam was kind of surprised to see her. He knew about her and Becky's plans for the day and wasn't expecting to see her until later that evening. He asked what happened and Grace replied by merely telling him that Becky had to go home, with no further explanation. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen Mrs. Rove give her a knowing look, though she wasn't quite sure why. Adam was happy to hear that her plans fell through, since he'd been wanting to play outside all morning, but hated playing by himself. As he'd ran upstairs to grab his shoes, Mrs. Rove came over and knelt beside Grace, telling her quietly that it wasn't her fault. Grace looked at her for a second, slightly confused, as Adam came plowing down the stairs eager to get outside.

After that, every time Adam asked to come over to play Super Mario Brothers_, Grace quickly cameup with some excuse to keep him out. He had been over before, and somehow, somewhere inside she knew he'd never leave just because of her mother, but she wouldn't risk it. Her house became off limits and the Roves' had become their permanent hangout. True, they had always hung out at his house more than hers, but after that she kept him as far away from her house as she possibly could. _

Then his mother died, and she knew things would never be the same. The one adult she actually trusted was gone, and she needed her then more than she ever had. As the months since her death passed, Grace's own life had begun to plummet downhill. The situation with her own mother wasn't getting any better, her best and only friend wouldn't talk to her, and the only other person she'd ever trusted was dead. She couldn't figure out why everything had to happen at once, why her entire world felt the need to suddenly implode. She felt bad enough not being able to do anything to help Adam. He'd always managed to be there for her, in his own way, when she'd needed him. Now when it was her turn to be there for him, he refused to let her. And while she didn't want to break her promise to Mrs. Rove, as more time passed by she saw how truly impossible keeping it was going to be. How was a twelve year old kid supposed to protect a boy who'd just lost his mother_? How was she supposed to watch over someone who wouldn't even say a word to her?_

THWACK!

Grace shot up like a rocket, startled by the sound of Lischak's pointer slamming down on the table in front of her. Once she realized what was going on, she hunched back down, well aware of what was coming. "So," she sarcastically asked the teacher, "what'd I miss?"

"Class, Polk. So," Ms. Lischak emphasized her word by smacking her pointer on the table once again, "perhaps you'd care to enlighten the class as to what dark matter is."

"Not really," Grace answered.

"Humor me," Lischak grumbled.

"Fine," Grace smirked. "Dark Matter is a really crappy metal band from…"

"Why do I even bother?" Ms. Lischak mumbled, shaking her head. As Grace started to put her head down on the table, her action was once again thwarted by Lischak's pointer. "Not so fast." She reached in her lab coat and pulled out a pad of yellow slips that Grace had grown all too accustomed to seeing throughout the years. Lischak tore of the slip and virtually slammed it on the table in front of Grace. "I will see you after school."

"What!" Luke grumbled from the table in front of them. "You're _kidding _me." He quickly noticed that everyone within earshot, including Grace, was starting right at him. Well, Grace was glaring, but that wasn't anything new. "Uh…I…just realized I forgot my Spanish book."

"Dude," Friedman turned toward him, "you can just get it after class…"

"Right. Of course." Luke turned around and focused on the notebook in front of him as Lischak went back to her lecture.

As Lischak droned on, Grace folded her arms across the table and plopped her head down. She figured as long as she already had detention, she might as well catch up on the sleep she'd been missing lately. She didn't have a clue was the lecture was about, only that the sound of Ms. Lischak going on and on slowly faded out as she found herself drifting off once again.

One night in early March, Grace found herself walking through the Roves' lawn on her way to Adam's shed. The lawn had become a virtual quagmire as a cold rain fell heavily from the sinister, cloud covered sky. She wasn't exactly sure what had made her go there that night in the pouring rain, but she was there. She trudged through the mud and stood in front of the shed door for several minutes, trying to figure out exactly what she was supposed to do if this would be the one time Adam actually answered. Of course, she still knew that he wouldn't. She could hear the sounds of a blow torch resonating from inside, so she knocked as loudly as she could. "Rove?" she shouted above the sound of sparks flying off of a sheet of metal. The sounds suddenly ceased. Grace raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised that her presence somehow caught his attention. The shed was completely quiet as Grace waited several moments for some indication that he really did hear her, or just quit working and started spacing out. When nothing happened, she spoke up again. "Hey, Rove?" She tried the knob, but the door was locked. "Adam?"

Nothing.

After a few more moments of waiting, Grace turned around and leaned back against the door, slamming her head against the slightly damp wood. She slowly slid down the door and took a seat on the ground. It was already soaked from the downpour, as was she. She didn't care. The wind had picked up since she'd left her house earlier, and was blowing with a fury quite similar to that which she was feeling at that moment. What was she even doing there? Adam didn't want her help, or he would have accepted it long before. He didn't need her, he seemed just fine on his own. Well, certainly not fine, but he definitely didn't need her help. He'd kept himself locked up and closed off ever since that cold November night at the hospital and no amount of prodding or poking around from her was going to make that any different. Why should it be all her _responsibility to look out for him anyway? Who was looking out for her? Sure, her mother was still alive, but that didn't offer her much solace. _

As she sat there in contemplation, she subconsciously reached into her pocket to pull out her lighter, only remembering that it had gone missing when she discovered that it wasn't there. With this added frustration, she once again slammed her head against the door. She closed her eyes and let herself drift away into her thoughts. She was through. She wasn't going to take responsibility for someone else when there was no one around to take responsibility for her. She didn't care about her promise to Mrs. Rove; it was only as good as Adam would let it be, anyway. As she slowly drifted off to sleep she made a new promise, a promise to herself_, the only person she would look out for from that point on was herself. She had to, because no one else would._

Grace bolted upright as the shrill of the bell pulled her from her siesta, signaling the end of class. She shook her head, trying to shake away the remnants of an undesired dream that had stayed with her. As she gathered her things, she noticed the pair beside her hanging all over each other, as they were prone to do. "Dude, if you two keep that up, you're gonna get arrested for indecent exposure."

Joan let out a small laugh. "You have some serious issues, Grace. You know, you're totally not going to say stuff like that once you have a boyfriend."

Grace's eyes darted to the table in front of her. Luckily, Atom Boy was already on his way out the door with the Freak Duo and didn't hear his sister's comment. "Yeah, right," she replied ascetically as she tossed her bag over her shoulder. "The day I start using _anybody _as a leaning post is the day Rove over there is sending me the way of Old Yeller."

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"It's a common courtesy."

"Right," Joan said, rolling her eyes. "Okay, I've gotta go find Judith. Maybe I can talk her into actually going to French." With that, Joan leaned in and kissed Adam as Grace stood there disgusted as always.

When he didn't follow Joan out of the classroom, Grace looked over at her friend in an attempt to figure out what was going on. "What's the deal?"

"What?" Adam asked, looking in Grace's direction.

"You two are joined at the hip. Why the lagging?"

"Oh, nothing. I just thought we could walk to class. I mean, they're right next to each other and all."

"Party girl getting on your nerves?" Grace asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adam smiled. "Something like that."

"Right."

The two of them began their walk down the hall in silence, which was just fine as far as Grace was concerned. She knew exactly what had been on Rove's mind all morning and there was no way she was going to talk about it. However, Adam had other plans as he spoke up once more. "Listen, uh, Grace…"

"No," she replied harshly.

"I haven't even said anything."

"You don't have to, Rove. I know you. And I am _not _acting weird."

"Actually," Adam replied, "I was just gonna ask how you were doing. But now that you mention it…"

Grace let out an exasperated sigh. "Dude!"

"Look," her friend's tone grew worried, "I know things have been kinda…you know…lately. I just wanted to know how you were. You know, after that whole party thing."

"I'm fine."

"I know." Adam kept quiet as they continued down the hall. As the reached the corridor where they were to turn and head to their respective classes, he spoke up once again. "Are you acting weird because of what happened at the party?"

"Look, dude," Grace all but shouted, "I told you, I'm _fine_." With that, Grace picked up her pace and continued to walk straight down the hallway.

"Look, dude," Grace all but shouted, "I told you, I'm " With that, Grace picked up her pace and continued to walk straight down the hallway. 

"Hey, where are you going?" Adam called after her. "Our classes are this way."

"Don't feel like class," she shouted in response as she turned down another hallway, leaving a confused Adam standing there alone.

When Grace reached the end of the hallway, she shoved herself through the set of double doors in front her. The warm breeze that hit her the moment she exited the building was about as welcomed to her as a root canal. She walked down the stairs and around to the back of the school, finding a quiet, secluded spot beside one of the dumpsters. She quickly found herself surrounded by the smell of the previous week's lunch, which actually smelled _worse _than it did when they served it, a feat she didn't even think was possible. The final bell sounded as Grace leaned against the cold, brick wall and slid down to the ground. She reached into her pocket and slowly pulled out the old Zippo once again. As she prepared to flip the lighter open, she caught a portion of her reflection in the chrome. It could only be seen if held at just the right angle, as the one reflective space on the lighter's surface was surrounded by rust and tarnish, hardened by use over an unknown amount years.

With a flick of her wrist, Grace flipped the lighter open, running her thumb across the igniter, causing the wick to erupt into the orange ball of chaos she'd grown so accustomed to. The angle of the flame combined with the light, autumn breeze made the tendril appear to be almost dancing in mid-air. It cast it's warmth subtly over Grace's face as she continued to stare directly into it, studying it's every contour and every movement. Like so many times before, she found her eyes start to glaze and her mind start to drift back to a time when the blaze inside herself had only begun to kindle.

The next day, Grace found herself arriving at school around lunch time. She had fallen asleep outside Rove's shed the night before, and didn't wake up until around nine o'clock that morning. She had wondered how Rove had managed to leave without noticing her sitting on the wet ground, but decided that it didn't really matter. She walked home quickly once she realized what time it was so she could change out of her clothes that were still soaking wet from the night before. At first she was worried that her mother might wonder why she wasn't at school, why she spent yet another night on the ground outside of Adam's shed, and why Mr. Rove hadn't been kind enough to let her stay inside the house, but as soon as she opened the door she saw her passed out on the living room sofa, half empty bottle of some kind of liquor still held tightly within her grasp, she knew she was in the clear.

She entered the cafeteria through the heavy wooden doors as soon as she walked into the school. The first thing she noticed was Rove, once again sitting alone at a table in the darkened corner in the back of the large room. She started to walk over, but forced herself to stop upon the recollection of her thoughts from the night before. He wouldn't talk to her if she did go over; he hadn't said a single word since the day she saw him with his mother's letter. He wasn't her responsibility anymore. The only person she took responsibility for now was herself. With one last glance at Adam, Grace turned around and walked back out of the cafeteria.


End file.
